It was a rare sweltering night, one where your clothes stuck to your body like a second skin in October. Tara applied the final touches to her makeup. Stacy sat on the bed, vibrating with energy. She has to be battery-powered; she never gets tired. Tara mused as she looked at her best friend in the mirror.
“I can’t believe it’s October already, Tara. What’s next? We wake up tomorrow in 1987?”
And next week 1988. Please. Tara rolled her eyes as she sprayed a final application of hairspray.
Perfume spritzed, and they were out the door. Stacy slid behind the wheel of her 1979 Corvette, the 350 growling to life as if it were a caged beast once she turned the key.
Glancing at the Tara, Stacy asks, “Pyramide or Peppermint?”
A sly smile appeared on Tara’s face. “How about that new place, Club Nightwear?”
“Across town?” Stacy looking at her friend.
Tara grinned. “Yeah, I know, wrong side of the tracks, but that’s just what this girl needs.”
Stacy got lucky and found a parking spot close to the door. The doorman spotted them right away. He flagged them as they headed toward the back of the line, waving them in.
“I love women who have nice rides. Enjoy the night, ladies.”
Stacy paused and gave the doorman a kiss with lots of tongue and a flirty, lingering squeeze on his arm. “Thanks, sexy man,” she breathed, the edge of every word dripping as if covered with honey.
They could feel the bass before they could even see the club proper. Tara noticed they were a bit more demanding than the usual crowd, which was a nicer way of saying “higher class.” Many of the women on the dance floor were wearing only lacy bras, in keeping with the Nightwear’s theme. Some even wore babydoll nighties. They hit the floor right away as Simple Minds blared from the speakers. It was a good warm-up for the next song, Sweat from Oingo Boingo. Heated and thirsty, they headed for the bar.
“STACY!”
They stopped searching for who was shouting.
“Justin!” Tara squealed.
The girls made their way to the tall, dark, and handsome man waving them down. They hugged and kissed him, and he introduced Jerry and Ted. Tara and Stacy sat as Justin went for drinks while the girls got to know the guys. Over an hour passed, and Tara and Stacy were dancing with Justin and Jerry. Ted seemed not interested in getting on the floor. As the night progressed, Stacy unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the black lace bra beneath. Jerry looked at Tara, who wagged a finger.
“Oh, no. I can’t flash the boobs in here.”
Justin leaned across Ted and fondled Tara’s tit. “Nope, no bra.” The table cracked up. Frankie Goes to Hollywood started up, and Stacy stood with Justin and Jerry, heading for the dance floor. Tara slid close to Ted. Her manicured and painted nails slowly fondled the lapel of his blazer.
“Why don’t you dance?”
He slammed his kamikaze. “I was in the Marine Corps. When the barracks blew up in Beirut, I was hit. My knee doesn’t work that well anymore, not for dancing at least.”
“I’m so sorry.” Tara leaned into him and kissed him softly.
Jerry came back and sat down.
“Jerry, watch our bags, okay?” Tara took Ted by the hand. She led him toward the bathrooms and further down the hall. She spotted what she knew had to be there: a storeroom.
“Not the ideal place, but…” she pulled him in and locked the door. They found a stack of boxes hidden away, and Tara pushed him onto the makeshift seat.
“Tara, what?”
Shushing him, undid his belt and opened his pants. Ted’s 7-inch cock sprang out, half hard and getting harder by the minute. Tara stroked him and took him down her throat, coating his hard shaft with her saliva. I need this so much, Tara thought to herself. She straddled him, pulling up her skirt and guiding him into her tight pussy. She slid down his shaft, taking all of him. So GOOD. She rode him slowly, her hips undulating to the beat reverberating through the walls, as they kissed hard. Tara slid up and down on him, her hands on his shoulders. He unbuttoned her blouse, leaning in and aggressively sucking and nibbling her hard nipples.
“God, you feel so good inside me.”
“Fuck, Tara, you are a dream come true.”
He thrust up on her downstroke, their commingled fluids leaking down his cock. Tara stiffened, her muscles milking him as she reached orgasm. She tongued his mouth.
“Heads or tails, baby?” She batted her eyelashes.
“Huh?”
“You want to cum in my mouth or my ass?”
“Oh.” A pause. “You mean you like it in the ass?”
Tara dismounted and bent over a box, flipping her skirt over her ass, pulling her cheeks apart. She contracted her muscles, and her ring pulse like it were blowing kisses.
“Make sure you lube it with spit.”
He pushed into her, the head of his cock popping through her tight sphincter. She moaned as he eased deeper. He was about halfway when he started pumping.
“Shove it in harder, Lover. I want your balls slapping my clit.”
With encouragement like that, Ted rammed deep. Tara was getting loud, begging for his cock. Her body slammed back onto his, and she caressed her clit. She came again, the muscles of her ass bearing down, triggering Ted’s orgasm. Tara felt each jet of semen spurting deep in her bowels.
“Oh yeah, shoot that thick cum deep in my ass.”
Ted softened and pulled out of Tara’s gaping ass. He spotted a case of paper towels. Grabbing some, the pair cleaned up the best they could. They became as presentable as they could and slipped back to their friends.
“Where have you been all this time?” Stacy asks the pair.
Tara kissed Ted on the cheek. “Supporting the Marines.”
Tara took turns dancing with Jerry and Justin, but spent most of the time talking to Ted. At 2, the club closed. Tara and Ted gave each other tonsillectomies with their tongues. A short beep from the idling Corvette drew Tara away. Halfway home, Tara banged her knee.
“FUCK ME! I didn’t get his number.”
Stacy smiled mischievously, feeling Tara’s breast as she slipped a napkin into Tara’s blouse.
“I did for you. As to the offer to fuck, my place or yours?”
